Mo Yan - The Garlic Ballads

Sometimes he kneaded her muscles with strong pressure, sometimes his hand barely brushed her skin; sometimes he pinched her joints hard, and sometimes he scarcely prodded them. Her breathing grew heavier, her heart began to race, and she purged her mind of things she had been thinking about only a moment earlier. His body felt cold and damp next to her heat. His breath came in chilled puffs, now with a slight minty odor. She was tense with anticipation.

As his fingers peeled away her skin, she reacted with a mixture of fear and curiosity, raising her arms as if wanting to protect something. But his rough hands were now caressing her breasts, sending shivers up her spine and pulling her skin taut, as jolts of electricity coursed through her body.

All around him green dots flickered; they stuck to the jute bushes, they danced, they flew, they described wobbly, dense, lovely arcs…. He was nearly encased in those green sparkles, which showed up even on his teeth.

She heard herself moan.

So many green sparkles, so many fireflies. They sizzled as they flew through the air. She arched her spine, grabbing at his back as if she were snaring the sparkles fighting on him. “They’re not green all the time. Watch them change color: now they’re a deep scarlet… now green … now scarlet … green again … and finally a shimmering blanket of gold….”

They didn’t wake up until the dark few moments before dawn. Only nesded in his arms did she feel real; as soon as she left his embrace, everything had form, but no substance.

“You must be exhausted, Elder Brother. Are you feeling all right?”

His mouth was next to her ear, into which he breathed puffs of minty air.

The stars, tiny shards of jade green, blinked in the pale sky. The mist was getting heavier; so, too, was the rank odor of damp earth. Insects, worn out after a night of chirping, were quiedy asleep. No sounds emerged from the frozen faces of jute bushes. With the rumbling of waves in her ears, her eyelids damp and sticky, she buried her head in the crook of his arm, where she fell into a deep sleep, her arms wrapped tighdy around his neck.

Dawn was announced by the cries of birds. Dewy pearl drops draped the deep-green jute leaves, which, reenergized, pointed sharply heavenward. The stalks — deep red, occasionally light yellow — stood straight and tall. The early-morning sun sent bright-red rays slicing earthward to light up Gao Ma’s face. It was a thin face, but clear and alert. An irrepressible glint of happiness shone in his eyes. At this moment he knew she couldn’t be apart from him even for a minute. His strength drew her to him like a magnet, until her eyes followed his every move. Thoughts of the night that had just passed set her heart pounding and the blood rushing to her face. Once again she threw herself into his arms, unable to control her emotions, and nibbled at his neck. Greedily she swallowed her saliva mixed with his salty, sweaty grime. When she bit down on his carotid artery she felt its powerful throbbing, a sensation that transported her to a world of enchantment and wonder, where she lost control over herself. She bit, she sucked, she nuzzled his skin with her lips, and as she did, she felt her internal organs open up like new flowers. “Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she said, “Elder Brother Gao Ma, nothing could make me regret any of this, not death itself!”

The dewy pearls splashed to the ground; now the branches seemed coated with a layer of oil that produced a dazzling sheen, and out of the earth rose a steamy dampness. From somewhere behind them came the cry of a spotted quail, a drawn-out, oppressive sound, as if, in some magical way, the bird had thrust its beak into the earth to muffle its cry. Another quail returned the call from somewhere in front. The early-morning air seemed to hang motionless, holding the jute bushes fast in its grip, like a coral reef standing inert in a sea of red.

He pushed her away. “We should eat something,” he said.

She smiled and lay back, gazing up at the chaotic green sparkles and shards of golden-red sunlight. She was raptly concentrating on a hidden spot in the recesses of her mind where the sound of swelling tides remained, distant and mysterious. Wishing she could immerse herself forever in that realm, she lay perfecdy still and held her breath; the sparkles, like tiny globules of quicksilver, froze in space and quivered briefly, as if to show they could glide away at any moment.

“Come on, get up and eat,” Gao Ma said, shaking her wrist. He took some flatcakes and garlic out of his cloth bundle. After pinching the dry, withered tips and bulb ends of the stalks, leaving only the fresh-green middle parts, he rolled six of them into one of the flatcakes and handed it to Jinju.

She shook her head, for she was still immersed in the joyful feelings of a moment before and wanted to hold them for as long as possible. The pungent smell of garlic put her on edge — over time she had grown to hate its smell.

“Eat something, so we can get moving again,” Gao Ma said.

Reluctantly she took the rolled flatcake, but waited until he had begun eating his before taking her first tentative bite. The thin cake was hard and resistant as a frozen rag. Gao Mas jaw was grinding, his cheeks twitching, and she heard the raw, cold garlic crunch sickeningly in his mouth. She bit down on her garlic, which cracked coldly, like bamboo being sliced by a knife. Her mouth filled with saliva; but her heart, now raw and cold, puckered inside her.

Gao Ma wolfed down his food, grunting raspily as he chewed. He farted loudly. Turning her face away in disgust, she tossed her rolled flatcake back into the blue bundle, where it spread open to reveal its garlicky contents.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously, a string of garlic fiber caught between his teeth.

“Nothing. You eat,” she answered softly. His garlicky breath again made her aware of the gap between them.

Once he had finished off his own flatcake, Gao Ma reached into the bundle and took hers out. “You don’t have to eat this if you don’t want to,” he said as he rerolled it. “I’ll buy you something more edible when we reach Pale Horse Township.”

“Where are we going, Gao Ma?”

“When we reach Pale Horse Township we’ll take a bus to Lanji and catch a train for the Northeast, I’m sure your brothers and the rest of them are waiting for us at Paradise Station.” His voice took on a sinister tone as he continued: “We’ll make sure their scheme fails.”

“What will we do in the Northeast?” she asked, somewhat dazed.

“We’ll go to Magnolia County in Heilongjiang. One of my army comrades is the deputy county administrator. He can help us find work,” Gao Ma said, showing he’d thought things out. He turned his attention to the second rolled cake, which he began eating as he released another resounding fart.

She giggled, even though she didn’t know what was so funny.

Gao Ma blushed. “I’ve lived alone too long,” he said bashfully. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Immediately forgiving, she said as if talking to a child, “You’re no different than other people. Anyone who eats grain knows what it’s like to pass wind.”

“Even women? I can’t imagine a pretty thing like you farting.”

“Women are human, too,” she said.

The mist on the jute bushes evaporated. Off to the north, somewhere in the wildwoods, a donkey brayed loudly.

“We can’t travel in broad daylight, can we?” she asked.

“Sure we can, since that’s the last thing they’d expect us to do. We’re about ten miles from Pale Horse, a three-hour walk. By the time your brothers get around to following us there, we’ll already be in Lanji.”

“I don’t want to go,” Jinju protested. “I belong to you now, so my folks might change their minds and let us be together.”